Tag: On Writing

When colors occlude as words to the weary fail to shineFor colors, so vibrant, twirl, lighten loads of life to defineSo such pleasures sought, we weak, tremble away from work to doAs pleasant thoughts entice us from hard glories to attain and chewThe stress as thus enthralls many to paths beaten worn well toward wideYet gold glimmers under stores held hard, petrified, from the casual, deniedUgh in so fewI’m frustratedFractured streams of thoughts, such sinuous smoke slides on the sly before meThen is goneStories swirl up in here, thoughts felt, dreams of futures aheadYet instead, tubin away I mope, medicating in mindlessness, watch a world whirlBy, as I still, kept in carapace, unassailed, unmarked steeled such stainless Incarcerated, in silver set, I lie by, discarnated, the spirit sees beyondBut held, is denied to moveSo I sitA chair for secondFrom such stature stagnantSuch a soul stiltedSturs the hamster hesitantBut the stone takes the Sisyphean stroll back to birthFor though apex atop in the whirl’s circular spinAt best life is a spiral towards a line flat, fallen and at an endSo to be, before to not, as such I aspireAs thou art in color or in letting loose scripts, I aimThough the becoming burdens bear, bounding barely beyond barrenStill, I’ll tryStill, I’ll go onIn colorful wordsWithin worlds colored

Sorry, So so sorry, it’s me, not you but lately, I’ve been busy, maybe too busy. Or lazy, yep that’s probably it. Lazy. But I’m back–I’m trying to, at least–hey give me some credit. It’s hard these days, you know–I got a job, adult responsibilities, articles to read, old writings to review, the past to reminisce about–like remember when we had so much time and I had so much energy, that I would just write everything and anything, the only thing stopping me was that I was tired, or really had to go to the bathroom, or there were way too many words with red jagged underlines?

Yep, those were the days, those were . . . But now, now dreary old now, I so live for the weekend, as the week, ugh don’t remind me! Yet the good thing is that it does fly fast–before you know it, it’s Friday, yay! Friday night is seriously the best because I can work on art–oh whoops, I forgot, yeah, how to say it . . .so yeah . . I’ve been hanging out with art a lot more these days, uh sorry. Art is so vibrant, with all the colors you can throw on the screen, and all those lines and curves I can manipulate into form. The stories I can tell are endless–not to say, I can’t tell stories with you as well, Writing. But it is so hard sometimes to get started–your great blank white pages stare at me and I shiver, oh I shiver and sometimes all I want to do is curl up into a ball and play my 3DS. Yeah, you’re right–art has white pages as well. But you see there, I can quickly change that with a nice bland pastel rectangular background. With a couple odd shapes, though awkwardly arranged into a blocky form, already I can see in my creative eye the beginnings of a masterpiece.

But with you, Writing, 5 minutes in, and that measly sentence or two, lonely floating in a sea of white, silently heckling me as in my head, a million thoughts racing are showing me all the things I could be doing now, and I just can’t think of the next thing I want to say. So 30 minutes, later when a teenager of a paragraph stares up at me, red lines like warts blinking everywhere, half-thought-out sentences with ands, other conjunctions streaming along a pile of miserably incoherent tangents meandering through a prose so magenta even Prince would be scared to wear it, I just simply don’t know–I don’t know it I care enough to wade through it , and clean up those sentences in bad need of liposuction, a diet (NOT A SEE FOOD DIET), and exercise–or even if I care enough to continue on with this train of thought, whose engine of an idea was so bright and friendly like Thomas until we started up that hill–many axles were more that scuffed in the climb. Yet at the top, all I could see was the upcoming mountain and, uh, uh I just couldn’t, just couldn’t anymore–Facebook break.

Whoops, that was a long time, a lot of cats, though. Anyway, where was I? Ah, the real reason why I wrote this. Um, erm, so, eh, last month October, the 10th month, even though in Latin it literally means the eighth month–but I digress, to save me more time, uh, please. So in October, there is this thing called Inktober you may have heard about. It is about drawing every single day in ink and posting it. So the good news–yay, good news–is that I was able to do that, even some of my post were kind of late, give a day/weeks or something like that. But, erm, the bad news. So this month is November, the 11th–okay, I’ll get to my point. In November, there is NaNoWriMo in which you are supposed to write 50,000 words. While not exactly doing that, in the vein of it I had hoped to write some stuff with you Writing this November but as they say, “Hopes are fickle things like butterflies who as they flit often fly in front of lit flamethrowers.” Naive butterflies fried. But anyways, I have a concession–letters. Together we can write letters to many different things–projects that need cheering up, poems that need to be written, art that is still struggling to get itself together. These letters could be fun just like this one was. And with that, Writing, dear old friend, I am sorry about this month but don’t hold it against me, I’m a busy lazy man but I’ll make sure to hang with you more often.

Arrested by imbued grandeur’s glands
As by a buzz I was stung you see
Nerved to rave, weaving strands
worths verbose, all this by a bee
For that fury desired for me
To write in a wry array
That pollen packer set free
That which would stay
Dear Apis aptly, stare
See melius melior be
Yet for chap’s sake fair
Leave me instigation free

Where were we
Whither hath we waved
Why words wobble wide
When works witted we craved
Where are we
Oh how a mind can wander
Over such seas and hills
Under mole’s mountains maunder
When will we
Contained ever be
Such weather wonders
If we ever a stable sea
How may we
Catch dreams fled
On mares, knight roam
To there be led